


love yours

by jisungist



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, lots and lots of emotions and sappiness, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 02:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14607051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jisungist/pseuds/jisungist
Summary: Sometimes Donghyuck’s sure the world has something against him. If he were to vocalize it, Yukhei would tell him that’s bullshit, then he’d probably say something horrifically self centered likehow could it, when you’re lucky enough to get to be with me?





	love yours

**Author's Note:**

> it's been less than two weeks since i started this which is probably the quickest i've ever written anything and of course it's during ap exams. i really do work best while procrastinating 
> 
> fun fact: even though it has absolutely no relation to the fic itself, i listened to a lot of the album "2014 forest hills drive" by j. cole while writing this fic, hence the title
> 
> anyway, i really don't know wtf this is but i hope you like it?

It’s taking all of Donghyuck’s willpower to keep from falling asleep on the cracked leather seats of the airport waiting room. He’s bone tired after a morning of classes and then a six hour shift at work and _then_ Taeyong had graciously dropped him off at the airport so that he could wait for Yukhei’s flight to land.

And then the flight’s arrival time got delayed from nine to midnight and Donghyuck had waited aimlessly in baggage claim for an hour until some of the airport staff took pity on him and shuffled him into a waiting room with the promise that they’d let him know when the plane arrived. He thinks that it’s probably around eleven now, but his phone’s battery died an indeterminate amount of time ago and he’s too exhausted to care.

Not for the first time, Donghyuck wishes he had a car—the pizza slice he’d shoved in his mouth on the way here only lasted him until about ten and his wallet was too thin to afford airport food. He _could_ have called Taeyong to pick him back up but he knows the guy works about ten times longer and harder than he ever could, so to bother him in his sleep? Even Donghyuck isn’t that much of an asshole.

Sometimes Donghyuck’s sure the world has something against him. If he were to vocalize it, Yukhei would tell him that’s bullshit, then he’d probably say something horrifically self centered like _how could it, when you’re lucky enough to get to be with me_?

But Yukhei isn’t the one who’s wrapped up in cobwebs of commitments at home. Yukhei isn’t the one who couldn’t afford to go to college out of state, he isn’t the one who has to walk four miles from campus every other afternoon to get paid minimum wage as a cashier at Burger King, he isn’t the one who’s stuck in the airport at eleven pm waiting to see his boyfriend for the first time in a year.  

Donghyuck blames the late hour on his sudden bitterness, as if pettiness isn’t embedded into his bone structure, as if Donghyuck doesn’t miss Yukhei enough that talking on the phone or video calling with him makes his heart feel like it’s shattered glass.

Sometimes Donghyuck thinks that Yukhei has been away for so long that he’s forgotten how to love him.

That’s how, despite his efforts, Donghyuck ends up falling asleep anyway. In his dream, he and Yukhei and the Burger King mascot are in an open grassy field at dawn. Yukhei and the Burger King mascot have weapons drawn—a baseball bat and a spatula, respectively—and are fighting a bizarre duel to the death for the prize of Donghyuck’s love. When the Burger King mascot has Yukhei pinned, spatula ready to kill, Donghyuck jumps in front of Yukhei and takes the hit—he wakes up frazzled, nerves on edge, to one of the airport staff shaking him awake gently.

“You were waiting for Flight LC125?” the man says and Donghyuck attempts to blink the blurriness out of his eyes before nodding. “It’s arrived,” he continues. “The passengers should be in the baggage claim area shortly.”

Donghyuck doesn’t even have time to thank the man before he’s gone, so he sighs and stands up, running his hands through his hair to tame it and stretching out his arms. He’s sure that he looks like absolute shit but Yukhei’s seen worse. Yukhei’s seen Donghyuck drenched to the bone with the knees of his jeans covered in mud because he’d slipped while trying to run home in the rain. Yukhei’s seen Donghyuck bruised and bleeding after he’d fought a guy who was a foot taller than him for talking shit about Mark Lee because Donghyuck firmly believes that the only person allowed to talk shit about Mark Lee is Donghyuck himself. Yukhei’s seen Donghyuck on the Sunday night before finals week started, irritable and snappish, skin pale and hands shaking and energy drink charged.

Yukhei’s seen Donghyuck breathing hard, sweat dripping off his temples, while Yukhei bends down to kiss him over and over and over, while Donghyuck whines in his throat and pulls him closer and—

Yeah, Yukhei’s seen worse. He’s seen a lot of things that Donghyuck never wanted him to, but he’s never called Donghyuck anything but beautiful. No matter what, the night would always end with the two of them in bed, with Donghyuck tucked safely in Yukhei’s arms, with the quiet hum of Yukhei’s pulse lulling him to sleep.

Eventually, Donghyuck gathers the last vestiges of his energy to find his way back to baggage claim. He still feels like he could sleep for forty eight hours straight, and memories of Yukhei are coursing through his head, making his ribs and chest feel constricted.

An announcement sounds over the loudspeaker and the noise rings in Donghyuck’s ears; he manages to make out Yukhei’s flight number among the words so he sinks down against a wall, leaning his head back to wait. An ache is piercing through his skull and Donghyuck _knows_ it’s just going to get worse when Yukhei gets here. Yukhei is so distracting, always the standout in the room, long limbed and loud voiced, dripping with natural charm and humor. Donghyuck’s the one who has to fake a smile at every party they go to; he cracks jokes and messes around with everyone else but he knows that it never looks genuine.

Most of the time, Donghyuck drags him home early and Yukhei comes without complaint and the night ends like every other night does. The other times are when Donghyuck gets drunk, and then he’s clingy and obnoxious and he doesn’t let himself be taken home unless Yukhei promises to buy him breakfast in the morning.

The clock ticks to a quarter past midnight when Donghyuck realizes that, objectively, he’s a pretty fucking terrible boyfriend. He sleeps through Yukhei’s calls and forgets to reply to texts until the next day, he rarely sends gifts even when he gets one from Yukhei once a month. He’s jealous and bad-tempered and he doesn’t know how to put his emotions into actions, much less words.

But Yukhei’s never called him anything but beautiful.

Everyone has told Donghyuck that he’s impulsive, too quick to act, too indecisive and disorganized, but Donghyuck’s always imagined two clear paths for himself.

In the first one, he and Yukhei get married. This is the good path, the one that ends up in promise rings and cherry blossom picnics. This is the one where Donghyuck learns to love himself as much as he loves Yukhei. This is the one where Yukhei’s sunlight smile never fades. This is the good one.

The second one is different. This is the one where Yukhei and Donghyuck’s paths diverge. This one ends up in broken plates and broken hearts and the sunset comes too soon. This is the one where Yukhei and Donghyuck pretend to still be friends, but they both know Donghyuck never manages to moves on.

He’s not exactly sure why he feels like he’s standing at the fork in the road. There’s no time to think about it though, because the doors on the opposing wall slide open and Donghyuck sees him. Yukhei looks like he’s been through a hurricane, but he manages to pull it off anyway. When he spots Donghyuck, his face lights up in a dazzling grin, and Donghyuck stumbles to his feet. There’s a lump of _something_ in his throat but he doesn’t have time to figure it out before all 184 centimeters of Wong Yukhei are enveloping him in a hug and the breath is knocked out of his lungs in one go.

“Lee Donghyuck, you have no idea how much I missed you,” is the first thing that Yukhei says and Donghyuck’s heart aches painfully behind his ribcage, so he wraps his arms around Yukhei’s waist and buries his face into Yukhei’s neck. Donghyuck’s always been in awe of the warmth that Yukhei radiated; he sometimes called Donghyuck the sun, but he’s always been the one who shined bright enough to blind.

“I missed you more,” Donghyuck whispers, voice muffled, but Yukhei doesn’t seem to hear.

“California is like, the most beautiful place ever, Hyuck, I can’t wait for you to visit. I love it _so_ much,” he rambles, and then pauses for a second before continuing. “Well, not as much as I love you, but it comes pretty close.”

Donghyuck doesn’t realize he’s crying until his lungs constrict and his chest heaves in an ugly sob, and then he feels tears run down his cheeks and drip from his jaw. He reflexively lets go of Yukhei’s waist and pulls back from his grasp but Yukhei holds onto Donghyuck’s shoulders and then steps in, taking Donghyuck’s face in his hands.

“What’s wrong, sunshine?” Yukhei asks, his face twisted in nervousness and confusion. The endearment only makes Donghyuck cry more; he can’t bring himself to look at Yukhei so he squeezes his eyes shut, with tears still free falling down his face and whimpers threatening to escape his throat.

He’s a mess of emotions that he can’t even begin to explain, so he just curls his hands around the fabric of Yukhei’s shirt and leans his head forward. One of Yukhei’s hands curls around the nape of Donghyuck’s neck and the other rests on his hip and Donghyuck doesn’t know how long they stay there, or how long he cries. But he listens to the steady rhythm of Yukhei’s heartbeat until he can breathe again.

Distantly, he becomes aware that they’re still in public and he feels heat rise to his face in embarrassment. Stepping away from Yukhei, he wipes the remnants of tears off of his cheeks.

“Let’s go,” he says, and Yukhei makes a noise of protest in his throat.

“Are you—” Yukhei starts but Donghyuck cuts him off immediately.

“I’m _fine_ ,” he replies, even though he’s not and Yukhei knows it. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Yukhei dips his head in resignation for _once_ and reaches to squeeze Donghyuck’s hand before drifting away to find his luggage on the baggage claim. Donghyuck is left with the chill of the night air and Yukhei’s backpack at his feet. He crouches down to zip it open, and there’s a bright red sweatshirt crudely folded among the clutter. He yanks it out and tugs it on; it’s loose on him but he knows Yukhei likes that. He’s not sure why he’s thinking about what turns Yukhei on when there’s more important things to worry about.

Donghyuck zips the bag up again and slings it over one shoulder when Yukhei comes back, dragging a suitcase in each hand. He gives Donghyuck a onceover, blinks slowly, and Donghyuck feels somewhat proud of himself. It’s weird, it’s all a bit weird.

“After you,” Yukhei says, ever the gentleman, so Donghyuck leads the way. He feels like a child with the too long sleeves and the too large backpack—it’s all a bit weird.

Turns out they have to wait anyway. Neither of them had thought much about _how_ they’d get home, so Donghyuck resorts to using Yukhei’s phone to call a taxi, gripes for a few minutes about how much of a waste of money it is, shuts up when Yukhei grabs his hand and pulls him down to sit on the wooden bench next to him.

“You complain too much,” Yukhei tells him, and it’s entirely valid, but that doesn’t stop Donghyuck from scowling anyway.

“You signed up for this,” he counters, but Yukhei just shrugs.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did,” he replies and Donghyuck falls a little more in love, maybe.

Donghyuck checks Yukhei’s phone; the app says that the taxi is eleven minutes away and Donghyuck sighs loudly, settling back on the bench. Yukhei’s arm comes up, around, over Donghyuck’s shoulders and he rests his fingers on the base of Donghyuck’s neck. When he presses a little harder, Donghyuck arches a little into the touch, and Yukhei laughs. Donghyuck feels a blush crawl its way up to his cheeks.

Fuck, it’s been so long since they started dating but every tiny thing Yukhei does still manages to get him this flustered. _Fuck_.

Yukhei shuffles closer so their thighs are touching, tilts his head closer, his mouth hovering near Donghyuck’s ear. He adjusts his hand so that his blunt nails scratch softly along Donghyuck’s skin, just enough so that it sends a shiver down Donghyuck’s spine.

“You like that, kitten?” Yukhei asks, voice low and soft, and _fucking hell_ , Donghyuck can’t help the noise that tears itself from his throat.

“What the fuck, Yukhei, not _here_ , fucking control yourself,” he hisses, and now Yukhei really laughs, pulling away from Donghyuck to throw his head back.

“You’re the worst,” Donghyuck spits. He’s grateful to every force in the universe that they’re alone outside the terminal. God, he hates Wong Yukhei.

“You love me,” Yukhei says and, of course, it’s true. He’d missed Yukhei a lot, everything, even the things that are annoying as shit. Donghyuck wants all of Yukhei and nothing less, nothing more. But fuck if Donghyuck will admit it right now.

When Donghyuck doesn’t respond, Yukhei knits their hands together and Donghyuck can feel the shadow of an unanswered question between their fingers, so he keeps his eyes up, waits for Yukhei to ask. The taxi is due in eight minutes.

“You wanna tell me what happened in there, sweetheart?” Yukhei asks. Donghyuck’s already accepted the fact that he’ll blush every time Yukhei uses a pet name for him, so he just ignores the heat in his cheeks and shrugs.

“Thinking about things,” Donghyuck replies.

Yukhei snorts, like he knows Donghyuck is being vague on purpose. “What things?”

When Donghyuck looks, he finds bright sincerity behind Yukhei’s mischievous eyes and he thinks, _this is why._

“About how I don’t deserve you,” Donghyuck says and honestly, he says it just to say it. Yukhei’s touch has already smoothed over the jagged edges of his mind like vanilla ice cream. But Yukhei still makes this half exasperated half frustrated noise, like they’ve had this conversation a hundred and one times. They have.

“Lee Donghyuck.” Yukhei says his name with a note of finality. “I’ve told you once, and again and again, and I’ll tell you until the day we die if I have to.”

“Please don’t,” Donghyuck replies.

“Don’t what?” Yukhei asks. “Don’t tell you that you mean everything to me? Don’t say that if it was between you and anything else that I want, I would pick you every time?” Donghyuck wonders how he spouts this shit with a straight face, the cheesiest things in the world like he means it, how he makes Donghyuck’s heart race a million miles an hour. “Don’t say that you’re the brightest thing in the entire universe? Lee Donghyuck, _Haechan_ , my full sun—”

Donghyuck looks down. Five minutes. He takes Yukhei’s face in his hands and kisses the life out of him.

“Shut up,” Donghyuck says, voice pitched and tongue sharp with desire. Yukhei takes a shuddering breath against his lips.

“Sorry, don’t know how,” Yukhei replies. Donghyuck can feel the shape of his smirk.

“What if I make you?” Donghyuck teases and Yukhei laughs almost breathlessly. The answer comes with Yukhei pressing closer and all Donghyuck can think is _holy shit, I missed this._

Donghyuck pulls back at two minutes, swipes his thumb along Yukhei’s bottom lip, grins when Yukhei sighs contentedly before Donghyuck turns away.

“You know,” Yukhei starts, sounding entirely wrecked, “my parents aren’t going to be home for the next week.”

“No,” Donghyuck replies immediately, even though spending a week in bed with Yukhei sounds almost too appealing.

“Why not?” Yukhei asks.

“I'm not on break right now, man, I have shit to do.” Donghyuck stands up and picks up Yukhei’s backpack. Yukhei follows, rolling the suitcases until the curb.

“You work too hard,” he says.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “No such thing.”

Yukhei hauls the suitcases into the trunk of the taxi while Donghyuck gets into the back and gives the driver Yukhei’s address. It’s about a half an hour away so Donghyuck gets comfortable, leaning his head on the window and watching the lights of the city go by. For the whole ride, Yukhei tells this elaborate story that has the taxi driver laughing along; Donghyuck feels slightly terrible for not paying much attention, but Yukhei doesn’t seem to mind. He holds Donghyuck’s hand for the entire half an hour, and Donghyuck’s heart swells. Even when their palms get kind of sweaty, Donghyuck thinks it’s nice.

Yukhei’s apartment is in the best part of town. There’s a hill that overlooks a lake that overlooks the horizon. Right now, though, it’s pitch black dark and Donghyuck can’t see past the streetlights.

“Do you want to sit out here?” Yukhei asks when the taxi’s already pulled out of the parking lot. Donghyuck shrugs, so Yukhei leaves the suitcases at the bottom of the hill and climbs up. Donghyuck drags the backpack up with him.

According to Yukhei’s phone, it’s nearly two in the morning and Donghyuck falls asleep easy in the grass with his head on Yukhei’s lap. When he wakes up, the sun is rising and Yukhei is in the same position that he was in a few hours before.

“My foot’s asleep,” he complains and Donghyuck sits up, rolls his neck to get the knots out.

“You could’ve moved,” Donghyuck says.

Yukhei shoots him a razor sharp grin and Donghyuck thinks, _it’s too early for this_. “You looked peaceful,” he teases, “for once.”

“The fuck you mean ‘for once,’” Donghyuck grumbles, because Yukhei is the one who’s made of pure energy, but right now, he’s almost quiet. Almost.

“Oh, wait, I have something for you,” Yukhei says, pulling his backpack closer and rummaging through it.

“What?” Donghyuck asks. “Dude, my welcome home present is back at my place, why don’t you ever tell me these things?”

Yukhei looks at him with glittering eyes. “You bought me a present?”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Don’t act like I can’t be nice,” he says and Yukhei splutters.

( _That’s not it_ , Yukhei thinks. He knows how careful Donghyuck has to be with his money, how much time he takes at the grocery store, how he keeps every coupon book that shows up in Yukhei’s mailbox. He knows what a gift from Lee Donghyuck means.)

Yukhei hands Donghyuck a notebook; it’s a bit worn, with a leather strap holding it shut and Donghyuck unbuckles it, using his thumb to flip through the notebook quickly. It’s full with colored tape and coffee stains, pressed flowers and Yukhei’s ink scrawled handwriting, and it’s the best present Donghyuck has ever gotten in his life.

“I wrote it down, every time something reminded me of you,” Yukhei explains. “I wrote it down or took a picture or…” he pauses for a second, sounding a bit embarrassed. “I thought you would want to know.”

The notebook breathes between his fingers like Yukhei does. It’s infused with Yukhei’s warmth and aura and Donghyuck thinks he might cry again. “Who knew,” he starts, voice light, “that the great Wong Yukhei could be this sentimental?”

Yukhei laughs. “Look me in the eye and tell me that I’m not,” he challenges.

Donghyuck can’t. Yukhei, with his sweet nothings and his speeches and his heart in a notebook in Donghyuck’s hands, is the most sentimental person Donghyuck has ever known.

“I thought you could look at it when you miss me,” Yukhei says. “I can make another one, when I leave again, I mean, if you want—”

“Yes, please,” Donghyuck replies. He doesn’t miss how Yukhei’s face splits into a grin as Donghyuck turns to the first page in the notebook. It’s dated, almost a year ago down to the day, and it’s a little faded but it’s clear what it writes. _My first San Francisco sunrise. I miss you, Lee Donghyuck, Haechan, my full sun. I miss you. I miss you, I miss you, I love you._

Attached below the note is a glossy photo of the sunrise over the cityscape. It’s the most beautiful thing that Donghyuck has ever seen.

And when Donghyuck voices the thought aloud, all Yukhei says is, “Just like you.”   


**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading!!


End file.
